


A Terrible Case of the Sniffles

by LegendofMajora



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3340625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendofMajora/pseuds/LegendofMajora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That's all it is. Some poor, rotten luck and it just so happens that Shizu-chan is horrible at playing nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Terrible Case of the Sniffles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twistedlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedlove/gifts).



A terrible case of the sniffles. That's the cause of this in accidentally falling asleep on his keyboard for the fifth night in a row. Two days without eating make him a little weak, and really, with the change of seasons combining Namie's cold from Seiji (in which he already knows more than he wants to for where _that_ came from) and her nasal voice, it's a higher risk for what he does. Not that forgetting to drink some water every now and then which Namie fetches albeit reluctantly, Izaya can't be bothered for whatever day it is as long as everything is on time. Deadlines are coming with the start of a new season and spring makes means for cleaning out folders and assignments. Payments trickle in nicely for his work while the hours whittle away with clicks of his keyboard.

That is, until it's four in the morning when Izaya finally wakes in his office, lights off and clearly barren without a trace of his sarcastic secretary. It's much cooler and almost too cold to be in the warmer temperatures of spring, but then again, it is _late_ and if there's anything to go by it's the glaring bright screen of his monitor. Mockingly it burns into his retinas, white and blinding until his computer turns off and Izaya calls it a morning—or whatever time it is. His head is only slightly unfocused, and just too cloudy to care much for time. Whatever assignments remain are too much for the slight headache pressing between his eyes.

Shuffling to his feet, Izaya pulls his coat over himself, having to inhale sharply to clear his nose—wrinkling with disgust at the noise of mucus in his sinuses. It takes a couple more sniffs to finally get a breath deep enough to satisfy his lungs, sighing as he exits the building and blinking when bright streetlights hit from all directions. Another blurry sight frustrates him, world shifting off balance with each step that he takes and the dull ache behind his nose is spreading to his eyes at a considerable rate. Another tug of inhaling through his nose and the stuffy feeling is still there, punctuating every breath that it takes to keep on track with the sidewalk beneath his feet. Four in the morning means less traffic and not as many opportunities to watch his humans, though the desire to isn't present at all. It's better, he decides for himself, if he just focuses on maintaining balance.

He sniffs again, disgusted just like before with every breath that gets harder to suck in and maintain. Oxygen is only his enemy when Shizu-chan's hands are around his throat, but not even the beast roams in the early morning. In a horrible sense of a twist Izaya realizes that it's probably a cold and being in the cold will be the death of him, chattering teeth when his jacket pulls loose and he pulls it tightly around himself. Drafts of wind only serve to make things worse, icy chills etching into his paler skin and his head feels more than just stuffed, but hot. An interesting contrast, when his apartment is only a few blocks away and it feels like miles when his knees are disagreeing about walking such a short distance.

Maybe a faltering of step isn't so terrible, but three more turning into four when he digs for his key are far too much even after he has to grasp for the door handle not to fall and make an embarrassment of himself, when only his opinion matters anyway. It's still too early in the morning to be _alive,_ he realizes blearily. Sniffling again—annoying, ugh—Izaya manages getting inside, slipping off his coat for his sofa to hold onto while he trails to his room, black socks making walking on the floor even more difficult. It's just too hot and too cold if he removes every single article of clothing, pulling off his shirt when it feels scuzzy on his body. Looking at the shower longingly Izaya decides it's better to lie in his bed, covered in a much larger shirt and shorts, long sleeves swarming his hands curling into fists. By the time he passes out, the last assorted sniffle doesn't bother him as much as not being able to breathe. The perks of not sleeping for so long, and with a cold ravaging his nose and the ache between his eyes.

And nothing good ever lasts for long. Starting with a shiver in the sheets Izaya doesn't wake, dreamless in sleep and shallow breaths eventually coming from his mouth in a watery rasp, drying his throat with cotton and coughing. Going on like this the shiver stops, words maybe forming into his name and sounding almost irritated, never hearing the nearly silent squeak of the bed shifting, nor the arms wrapping around him and bringing an inviting source of heat to aggressively cuddle for. Which wouldn't happen because again, Izaya prefers sleeping when embarrassing himself in order to gain full advantage of revenge and incentive for blackmail. The hand in his hair feels more than nice, however, and the stroke with the careful pull of his hair he feels a little more awake, never fully asleep when he can't breathe so well.

The silence lasts for a record of another hour or two, drifting off into morning and still too early when the bed won't stop moving and Izaya can't breathe enough to stay asleep. Eventually Shizuo, as far as Izaya can tell, shifts up in the bed and takes Izaya with him, pulling him into his chest while they sit.

A forehead thunks against his, warm and inviting even if his own is burning hot. But still, it doesn't stop the arms that wrap around him. "Yeah, you've got a fever." As if it's not already obvious when Izaya squirms to get closer to Shizu-chan, wanting the heat of a monster for his chills. Shizuo's arms tighten around Izaya, shirt riding up when it's clearly Shizuo's and far too big for the flea. Hand sinking underneath the fabric he brushes against the warmed skin, resting Izaya's head on his shoulder while his fingers trail up the knobs of Izaya's spine. Eyes don't open yet, wanting to bask in how warm Shizu-chan is and the possibility of actually being useful for once.

"Hey," Shizuo's voice is low, quiet enough not to aggravate the headache rampant in Izaya's head. "You got a cold or something? You look like a mess." Of course, Shizu-chan. But seeing as breathing is enough of a chore Izaya's lazy enough to groan, making for Shizuo to press him closer and move to situate Izaya between his legs. The blond moves a hand to cradle the back of Izaya's head, listening to the rasping breaths through Izaya's mouth while his head tucks between throat and shoulder with blond hair tickling his face. Just stay like this, is all Izaya cares for in the little that he can focus on.

Shizuo's fingers on Izaya's back rest between shoulder blades, stroking in random patterns while the other hand lingers in Izaya's hair, pausing when Izaya takes the chance to cough wetly and resume when the informant wheezes for air. There probably isn't much he can do besides rifle through a medicine cabinet for medications Izaya sparingly keeps, but with a flea attached and refusing to let go from the hidden strength in his arms around Shizuo, it's harder than it looks. "Come on, lie down for a little while. I'll go get some cold medicine wherever it is."

Izaya slips off, eyes narrowing and staring with repugnance rather than attempting a full-on glare. From the furrow in his brow Shizuo can tell there's a headache behind the dim red, causing mayhem while cheeks flush an envious shade to almost match. With Izaya's lips parting to force in more air, warmer by turning on the heater when Shizuo arrives earlier, the blond leans forward to kiss Izaya as he slides off the bed. And the inside of his mouth is hot, Shizuo realizes as soon as his lips press against dry ones and caress with a gentle motion, leaving Izaya breathless and unamused as soon as he pulls away. Two can play at this game.

Bare feet pad on the heated floor, envious at the expensive luxuries in Izaya's apartment which serves as an entire house, much better than his own. But at his own, he knows Izaya better draped in his own scent than Izaya's that tastes like cold steel and much more beneath the exterior. Sneaky, just like the flea, to crash right in and take whatever Shizuo has, including whatever remains of flushing if Izaya can catch him off guard. Usually it's Izaya that's much easier to embarrass whenever a reason comes by, be it sleeping unguarded in Shizuo's bed or his own, or even daring to smirk like he doesn't know any better.

Of course he does. The same way Shizuo knows that most medicines are in the upper cabinet next to the mirror when he rifles through them, setting down the ones that aren't what he's looking for on the counter in front of him. Most of them are pain medications, forcing at least a cringe when Shizuo knows they're extra strong for reasons that involve accidentally throwing too hard or hitting too much on one tiny body. It's times like this where he has a somewhat keen sense of how vulnerable Izaya is, and this time the flea's wrapped in his sheets and burning hot. As long as he's not sweating as much as he is shivering, knowing firsthand from having Izaya refusing to let go of him for some reason, he supposes it's fine to leave the cold cloth for later.

Finally he finds fever reducers, following the cough syrup with the disgustingly red color and an even worse smell and taste. Reminding himself only makes Shizuo gag, gathering the items and reading the backs to make sure the medicine isn't expired, still making a face when he holds the cough syrup before venturing back to Izaya. It's only one door, attached to Izaya's bedroom because the flea is too damn rich for his own good. Which is all good, as long as Shizuo gets to warm his feet on the floor without socks and warm a bed with Izaya in it. The painkillers out of mind with the intimidation of white bottles and too many too empty for his liking Shizuo closes the bathroom door behind him, coming to face Izaya lying in bed, asleep once again.

"Flea," Shizuo calls, more of a nickname than an insult by this time around. "Wake up." Remembering that his voice is too loud by the stiffening of the body beneath the sheets he carefully sits next to, relieved when he sees some of the water in the cup brought to the nightstand lower than before. Izaya glares up at him, covering a cough with his arm halfheartedly slung over his mouth and eyes burning brightly. So the fever's getting worse—Shizuo leans to knock their foreheads together, gently this time and hearing the hiss of pain that results. Lips brush the skin in an apology, Izaya's eyes closing limply once again before Shizuo presses his lips to each lid, saving the wet lips for last. This time Izaya lets Shizuo pull him up, arms against his back and head before leaning against the headboard.

"What do you want, Shizu-chan." he grumbles, voice nasal and rough while he pulls the blankets tighter around him and Shizuo releases him to grab the medicines in his lap. His cheeks are bright apple red, not as dark as the cough syrup and much better tasting, in Shizuo's opinion, than anything related to the stuff. Still looking exhausted with the bags under his eyes and drooping eyelids more than actually pretending to still be awake. Cupping his face the bright lights of the room make him squint and Shizuo notices, twisting the cap off the bottle of fever reducers and fishing out two.

Handing them to Izaya, he grabs the cup for him and his free hand brushes the bangs out of Izaya's face, tracing a closed eyelid with the pad of his thumb and into his hair. "Take the medications." Izaya accepts the pills and water, glancing at Shizuo with little but apathy to give and ignore the scoff Shizuo gives in return for the ungrateful attitude. Tipping his head back Izaya gathers water in his mouth, popping the two pills in and spilling drops onto his lap, fingers tightening into fists when he feels the cold and before he can do much else Shizuo's mouth is on his tightly-sealed lips, fingers pinching Izaya's nose shut. At first Izaya looks surprised, Shizuo's eyes closed and his wide open until he swallows, reluctantly forcing down the bitter taste of pills and the feeling of catching them in his throat.

This is the worst. Up until Shizuo's fingers remove from the pinching sensation, despite the fact he still can't breathe and a tongue laps at his when he can't hold his breath, panting softly. Pulling away Shizuo looks even more smug beneath the concerned look, Izaya knowing it all too well and realizing only when it's too late that the bottle in Shizuo's hand is not to be trusted. With a twist of the cap and a pop that sounds, Izaya can smell the faintest trace of bitter medicinal cherry, despite his own penchant for bitter things in which medicines do not apply. Ever.

"Open up." Absolutely not. Glaring with the strength and deadliness he can muster (not at all effective if Shizuo laughs at him, bastard) Izaya shakes his head, refusing to grace Shizuo with the sound of speech for his intolerance to these childish antics. But Shizuo is already pouring that thick syrupy liquid into the cap that comes off the lid, measuring while Izaya's brain is frying from the fumes of disgust and medicine cherry.

In return, he kindly shows Shizu-chan his middle finger, blinking hazily as he does and maintaining his resistance. The blond beast with all his heat has the nerve to smirk, taking humor in Izaya's current misery to thrust the cup into Izaya's face, stench rotting any brain cells remaining as it's directly under his nose. The sound of buzzing may be the sound of advanced decomposition in his brain.

"Love you too." Shizuo forces the cup past Izaya's lips, draining it quickly and not giving much time for Izaya to react before the bitter taste is coating his tongue and like poison the taste sinks in deep. Gagging and eyes burning Izaya swallows hastily, getting as much down as he can and feeling the viscous fluid tremble down his esophagus with as much grace as him coughing onto Shizuo. Smirk turning into a malicious grin Shizuo watches Izaya quickly swallow water down to clear the taste but it's too late, branding into his tongue with permanence of rotting him from the inside out. Only now does it reach his stomach and make the acid churn in distaste.

Shizuo, he decides as he reaches forward with wanting to voice his opinion clearly but throat too sore to care, needs a taste of his own medicine. Therefore Izaya decides on the perfect solution of revenge, pulling Shizuo into an open-mouthed kiss and sticking his heated tongue into Shizuo's mouth, tangling with Shizuo's warmer mouth and laughing hoarsely when Shizuo quickly reacts. Pushing him off isn't as bad as the look of horror on Shizuo's face, utterly disgusted and Izaya sticking his cherry-stained tongue at him in mocking relief of getting even.

"Love you too, Shizu-chan," he coughs hoarsely, grinning like a demon before Shizuo captures him again, resisting the attempts of Izaya's kisses until Izaya pins him down, head throbbing but making an effort of kissing Shizuo again. It's not so bad, facing defeat when Shizuo's teeth refuse to let him in and he has hands pulling him close to Shizuo's body heat, eventually giving in when the need for sleep is too much to ignore.

Resting his head on Shizuo's chest, he decides that these sniffles—damn things, aren't as bad with a monster heater. A terrible, horrifying, and cruel cold for daring to knock him down.

It's enough, maybe, when Shizuo pulls the covers over both of them. One kiss on his nose just to make Izaya twitch, and another for good luck.

"This what happens when I leave you alone for a few days?" Shizuo remarks in a dull murmur, still retaining humor while Izaya's vision is quickly fading, eyelids sliding shut and his headache pounding. "You need to learn how to take care of yourself, flea." he sighs, arms tightening and the quiet of morning fading into the background. Details, details.

But Shizu-chan doesn't seem to mind. "That's Shizu-chan's job." Izaya barely makes the sentence coherent, coughing into his arm once again.

The blush on his cheeks is just the fever, Izaya tells himself.

**Author's Note:**

> twistedlove, te amo. <3
> 
> Companion to: [A Horrible Infestation of the Stomach Bug](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3380768).
> 
> Happy upcoming Majora Day, everyone~


End file.
